C222 Threats & War

C222 Threats & War

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Minutes earlier, in the void of space above Naboo, outside the Trade Federations blockade, a rift tore open, and with a flash of brilliant light, a colossal warship dropped out of hyperspace. It was unlike anything the Trade Federation had seen before, a behemoth of sleek, cutting-edge design and shimmering metal.

This was Atlas—Peter's Cybertronian battleship.

On the main deck of Atlas, Peter, clad in a fresh pair of clothes, stood with his arms crossed, staring at the blockade before him with a grim expression. He had expected a blockade, but seeing the full scale of the Trade Federation's fleet surrounding Naboo brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Peter muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 'The invasion shouldn't have happened yet. Not for another few years, at least.'

'And isn't Sidious supposed to be the one orchestrating all this?' he questioned, baffled. 'Why would he be doing this from all the way out in the Kree Empire?'

Peter exhaled, leaning back against the deck railing. Sidious isn't even part of the Republic in this universe... which means... 'Either I've altered the timeline, or there's another Sith Lord in the Republic pulling the strings that I haven't accounted for.'

As Peter mulled this over, he couldn't help but think about Count Dooku and his mysterious master. 'I assumed it would be Sidious, but maybe it's someone else entirely...'

Rocket, seated at the control console nearby, eyed the blockade with a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. "So, should we just attack, or?"

Before Peter could reply, the comm system crackled to life, cutting through the tense air of the ship. An authoritative, cold voice filled the deck. "Unidentified vessel, you have entered a restricted zone. This area is under the jurisdiction of the Trade Federation. You are ordered to leave immediately, or you will be destroyed."

"Cute..." Peter rolled his eyes as he slipped on his Star-Lord mask. Thankfully, everyone else was off preparing for battle, leaving just him and Rocket in the room. Because If someone like Anakin were here right now, he'd probably have a heart attack at the sight of his hero, Star-Lord.

With his mask on, Peter stepped forward, hands on his hips as he stared out the massive window at the fleet blocking his path. "Atlas, patch me through to every Trade Federation line in this sector."

Atlas's voice, calm and smooth, responded immediately. "Broadcasting now."

The ship's holo-projectors activated, sending a clear video and audio feed of Star-Lord to every single Trade Federation ship, droid, member, etc. His image flickered to life on the bridge of each battleship, projected onto screens and holo-panels, interrupting all communications with his sudden appearance.

Inside the palace on Naboo, the officers froze as Star-Lord's masked visage appeared on their central display.

Viceroy Nute Gunray, who had been lounging on Padmé's throne, now draped with the Trade Federation's insignia—straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward.

"What is this?" Gunray snapped, his voice tinged with irritation and fear. "Who dares interrupt our operations?"

The hologram of Star-Lord stood tall, his masked face giving nothing away, but his voice was clear, laced with a dark, dangerous edge. He began to speak, addressing the entire Trade Federation fleet, his tone laced with amusement.

"Hello there, Trade Federation invaders," Peter's voice boomed through the comms, carried across the void of space into every Trade Federation vessel. "This is Star-Lord speaking... And I'm here to tell you that your little blockade? It ends now."

The officers in the throne room exchanged nervous glances. Gunray's face twisted into a scowl, but he stayed silent, listening with a growing unease.

Peter's voice lowered, taking on a cold, dangerous edge. "I've encountered plenty of scum in my travels—tyrants, lunatics, and your run-of-the-mill human trash. And you? You're no different. You think you can do whatever you please without consequence because the Republic is weak and corrupt?" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Well, not while I'm here."

...

Meanwhile, in the prison cells deep within the palace on Naboo, Padmé Amidala sat huddled in a corner, her once regal dress torn and dirtied from her capture. Her hands gripped into tight fists as she clutched them together in a mix of rage and fear, trying to hold on to her resolve despite the hopelessness of her situation.

Outside her cell, one of the Trade Federation's battle droids stiffened, its photoreceptors flickering as it received the broadcast. A small hologram of Star-Lord projected from its chest, the image clear despite the static interference from the palace's jammers.

The Droidekas deployed instantly, raising their shields as they unleashed a barrage of blaster fire. Obi-Wan ducked low, deflecting the shots back at the battle droids behind the Destroyers, dismantling their ranks. Qui-Gon leaped high, somersaulting over the Droidekas, his saber flashing as he landed behind them, slicing through the legs of one with a swift cut.

Obi-Wan pushed forward, using the Force to shove one of the Droidekas into the wall, its shield flickering before dissipating. He moved in for the kill, thrusting his saber through its core, the droid sparking violently before collapsing.

But for every droid they destroyed, more seemed to pour in from the adjoining corridors, as if the ship's reserves were endless. The two Jedi moved in perfect synchronization, their lightsabers a blur of green and blue as they sliced through the mechanical horde. Obi-Wan deflected a series of blaster bolts, then spun, bisecting a droid that lunged at him.

Qui-Gon thrust his saber through the final Droideka's shield, piercing its power core with a precise jab. The droid shuddered and fell, its cannons going silent as it crumpled to the floor.

Before they could catch their breath, the battleship groaned and shuddered again, this time even more violently. The sound of distant explosions grew louder, the ship's structure trembling under the relentless assault from outside.

"Master, we need to move," Obi-Wan urged, his eyes darting back to the viewport. He could see pieces of debris floating past, fragments of Trade Federation fighters and shuttles that had been obliterated by Star-Lord's attack.

Qui-Gon nodded, his expression hardening with resolve. "Now is our chance. While the Trade Federation is distracted, we can escape. Follow me, Obi-Wan."

They sprinted down the corridor, cutting through the remaining droids with quick, precise strikes. The alarms blared louder, a cacophony of warning sirens as the ship struggled under the unexpected onslaught. Smoke billowed from damaged vents, filling the air with a thick, acrid scent.

The two Jedi finally reached the hangar, bursting through the doors. The scene inside was utter chaos. Battle droids were running in every direction, some firing at unseen targets, others trying to board shuttles. Maintenance crews ducked for cover as another explosion rocked the ship, sending a cascade of sparks raining down from the ceiling.

Obi-Wan quickly spotted their vessel, still docked in the far corner of the hangar. He pointed. "There's our ship!"

"Let's move!" Qui-Gon commanded, already sprinting toward it.

They dodged blaster fire and ducked beneath the wings of a droid fighter as they made their way across the hangar floor. Obi-Wan deflected a stray blaster bolt back at a droid, sending it crashing into a stack of crates.

They boarded their vessel, the ramp hissing shut behind them. Qui-Gon wasted no time, firing up the engines as Obi-Wan took the co-pilot's seat, working the controls with swift, practiced movements.

The ship roared to life, lifting off the hangar floor just as another explosion ripped through the battleship's hull. They shot out of the hangar, narrowly dodging debris and a shower of blaster fire. Behind them, the Trade Federation battleship shuddered violently, its hull splitting apart as flames licked along its surface.

Obi-Wan glanced back, catching sight of the massive, unfamiliar warship tearing through the Trade Federation fleet with ruthless efficiency. He couldn't make out any markings, but he knew it had to be Star-Lord's ship. "Star-Lord must be mad, attacking the Trade Federations fleet like this..." he muttered in awe.

Qui-Gon's hands were steady on the controls as he guided their vessel down toward Naboo's surface, weaving between the remains of fighters and chunks of metal debris. "Mad or not, he's created the perfect distraction for us. Now we must reach Theed and find out the truth behind this invasion."

They broke through the atmosphere, the battles behind them fading as they descended toward the lush, green fields of Naboo.

...

Back on Atlas, Peter stood on the main deck, watching the chaos unfold outside the viewport. The Trade Federation battleship he had just fired on split in two, explosions ripping through its core. In the distance, he caught sight of a smaller ship darting away from the destruction, heading toward the planet below.

Peter's eyes narrowed behind his mask. He had seen the ship's design before—a sleek, familiar vessel often used by the Jedi. 'Could it be...?' he wondered.

Alfred's voice chimed in through the ship's speakers, calm and unperturbed. "Master Peter, I've detected a vessel departing from the main Trade Federation battleship. Shall I target it as well?"

Peter shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No, Alfred. Let it go. Focus on the Trade Federation for now."

He turned back to the viewport, watching as another explosion rocked the enemy fleet, flames blossoming in the darkness of space.

"Besides," Peter muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We've got a job to finish."

The ship's cannons roared to life once more, unleashing a torrent of laser fire that tore through the blockade, sending shockwaves rippling across the void as Atlas continued its relentless assault on the Trade Federation's forces, which were dwindling by the minute.

A/N: 2540 words:)????????